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The LastDragon! (please)

"I-I'll stay here..." Sven muttered, lowering his eyes even more. He huddled there on the bed, his long skinny frame huddled and folded on the bunk. "Just...go. Do what you want." He wouldn't meet Nate's eyes.

Sven was completely still for a moment before he uncurled a little, silently reaching for his sketchbook again.
He listened quietly to Nate, not commenting at all. He didn't need to.
So he just quietly went back to his sketching, keeping it partially hidden with the palm of his hand.

Sven finished the little picture he had drawn, just as the baby started to cry. He glanced up, putting the pencil down to watch as Nate scooped the little boy up.
A pang went through his chest, and he had to look away, turning back to his finished little drawing.

Sven was used to being ignored. It happened a lot. So he just carefully turned the page in his faded old sketchbook and tried to ignore Nate and Kennedy.
He swallowed hard on the lump that had formed in his throat, trying to push it down as he started to get to work on a new drawing.

Sven obediently, yet reluctantly followed Nate. He only really looked up a couple times to make sure he would trip and fall.
He took the bag from Nate's mom, not meeting her eyes.
"Yes ma'am." He said, as if he was a servant in this house and not a foster child.

Sven silently put his bag into the bin Nate had pointed to, keeping his head turned away from the other boy. He started to pull the bin down the driveway, keeping his head lowered as the rain came down, soaking into him.

Sven followed him slowly, feeling water seep into his worn out shoes. But he didn't say anything.
He had seen the way Nate had lit up and then deflated when the car went past, but he didn't even bother to wonder about it. Everyone had their secrets.

Sven started to move down the hall with Nate, going slowly, reluctantly. It was as if he had been asked to go to his execution rather than just change.
His hair dripped water into his face, but he ignored it, keeping his head lowered.

"I'm fine." Sven replied in his quiet mumble. He moved towards his suitcase, opening the old thing carefully. He pulled out a rumpled pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt, almost identical to the ones he was already wearing.

Sven quietly started to peel off his wet clothes, keeping his eyes on the floor.
He had used to try to hide the scars, but now...
The scars that dragged across his back and chest sat in plain view for a moment as he started to pull his shirt down over them.

Sven quietly finished dressing, carefully setting his wet clothes aside before moving down the hall towards the table where the family was gathered for dinner.
He kept his head down, silent and sullen, as if he was trying to fade away into the walls and be invisible.

Sven sat there quietly during the prayer. Some of the other families had been religious too, he'd gotten used to prayers. Though he shifted uncomfortably when he was mentioned. That's not true...He thought to himself, staring down at the food in front of him. Though he didn't say anything out loud as he started to pick at the food, shifting it around his plate instead of actually eating it.

Sven took another tiny bite, swallowing quickly before going back to shifting things around on his plate. He didn't look up at Mr. Matthews when he talked about coming to the shop.
He just nodded quietly, complacently, obediently.

Sven frowned a little, shuffling his feet uncomfortably as he stood up. But he nodded and moved slowly towards the screaming baby.
He went to pick Kennedy up, stiffly, body a little tense. He held onto the baby uncertainly, as if he was afraid of breaking the child. He was completely still for a moment before he hesitantly started to rock back and forth, very slowly and unsure.
"I-It's...It's okay, little guy." He mumbled softly to the baby. "You...You're okay. You're safe..."

Sven had gotten less stiff as he held the little child, watching him and quietly telling him that he was alright, that he would be just fine.
He rocked Kennedy back and forth, back and forth, soothingly. Gently. As if he was afraid of accidentally breaking or hurting him.
"Good good." Sven cooed softly. "Good little Kat-" He caught himself before he finished, freezing for a moment. "Kennedy. Kennedy."